The Inferno
by Gavrilo-Princip
Summary: Abandon hope, ye who enter here. JimPam
1. Precursory

_Author's Note: I don't want to leave anything out here. First and foremost, every single negative, anonymous review will be deleted immediately. I don't care if you want to review negatively, but don't be such a chickenshit pussy that you can't offer me some way to reply. _

_Secondly, yes, this is Jim/Pam story._

_Finally, what is this story about? This is a sequel to Eraser, since people wanted to know what happened after. Other than that…_

_Admittedly, this story is weird and I don't expect many people to enjoy it. However, Halloween is coming up and people wanted a sequel to Eraser, so I figured I'd try this. I tend to get distracted easily, so if you actually want this story to continue, then you need to keep me focused. Feedback is much appreciated. I'd also enjoy talking to you personally, and you can IM me at basher529 on AIM._

_Also, like always, though I may be writing this story for both you people and myself, I still don't care about any complaints you have. Someone recently called me thin-skinned because of the review I left on another of my stories. I'm not thin-skinned, I simply couldn't care less about the problems you have with my writing._

_I realize that will probably upset some people who think their own opinions are very valuable. Go to Google and search for grief counseling, because it's not my problem._

He was crashing through the blackness, the deafening wind one continuous wail as he hurtled blindly.

When he opened his eyes, all he could see were gnarled, gray trees, their branches covered in ash and devoid of leaves. In the gloom, he saw thickets of thorny, sick-looking bushes woven between the endless landscape of trees. He tried to speak, to call out for someone, but he couldn't talk. Panicked, he tried to turn his head but found that he couldn't. His vision was limited to straight ahead and whatever information he could gather in his periphery. Eyes straining downward, he couldn't see his body, instead seeing only a dried, gray trunk stretching out into the black earth. His eyes finally adjusted to the darkness around him and he could see further out. Right next to where he stood, a rocky pathway lead directly in front of and past him, branching off into smaller pathways. In the distance, he could hear the echoing snarls and barks of dogs and, almost drowned out by the incessant howling, screams of people. He tried to call out again, but couldn't.

Scared now at his unfamiliar, hellish surroundings, he cast his gaze upward, and it was then that he saw his body, naked and covered in cuts, dangling from tree branches somewhere above him. His body – the one he was apparently disconnected from – shook, and he heard soft animal noises. Eyes starting to burn, he could just make out what looked like two wings draped around his feet. He blinked, and upon reopening his eyes, he saw a clawed hand carve a red, two-fingered gash down his back. He felt himself trembling, fear coursing quickly through him, and he almost missed the bald head with the long, feathery neck and empty eye sockets twist around from behind his body. The mouth on the head opened up, rows of needle fangs glistening in the almost nonexistent light. The thing's obscene tongue coiled out of its mouth, and Jim tried to scream, but found himself losing consciousness instead.

Pam could never remember crying at a funeral so much. She thought she had cried herself dry during Jim's service, but when they got to the cemetery, when she first laid eyes on his polished silver casket, poised over the black maw of the grave, she started again, sobs coming heavy and painful, her diaphragm wracked with spasms of pain. She hung onto Angela heavily the entire time, with Dwight's hand awkwardly placed on her shoulder in an attempt to provide comfort. It helped, a little bit.

Roy wasn't here. The day that Jim left, she had been planning to announce that they had set another date for their wedding, that they were finally, actually, going to do it, but after Jim…she found that she didn't care about the wedding. The empty hole in her chest, torn raw and ragged, would allow her to think of nothing except Jim. From the moment they had gotten the word, Pam had been lost and inconsolable, heavy with guilt and regret and so much pain.

At the funeral, the only one possibly more upset then herself was Michael. He was sobbing just as uncontrollably, leaning on Carol while Jan held his right hand. The rest of the office had turned out, Phyllis with tears in her eyes, Dwight looking withdrawn and oddly devastated, Angela sniffling quietly, Kelly crying while still maintaining her death grip on Ryan's arm, Ryan himself looking at a loss and confused as to how this could have happened. At the back of the procession, Gil had his arm around Oscar, whose expression pretty much matched everyone else's: disbelief, shock, loss, sadness. Stanley, Meredith, Creed…even Devon made a reappearance when he heard the news. They were all there to see him off to whatever lay beyond the world they were so accustomed to.

After everyone had stepped up to the casket to briefly say their last goodbyes, with Michael taking the longest, they all watched as Jim was lowered into the ground, the casket reaching bottom with a hollow sound. Pam stepped forward suddenly, reaching into her pocket, to pull out the picture.

She had drawn it during one of her slower days. He was leaning back in his chair, taking a break from the phone calls he was making to clients. His head was cradled in his hands, and his eyes were closed. Jim was smiling slightly, probably glad to be taking a break, and Pam had quickly drawn out a rough sketch on the back of an old fax that was sitting on her desk. As she quickly captured the rough structure of the scene before her, she had stared at him, memorizing every detail of his face. Later on that night, with Roy predictably absent, she had gone back, adding the detail carefully and reverently before tucking the picture at the back of one of her drawers, hidden underneath her socks. She would take it out from time to time and look at it, trying to tell herself she was just admiring her handiwork. She had never shown Jim the picture.

She was showing him now.

With trembling hands, she unfolded the recently creased paper and held it over the hole, letting it slip from her fingers, traveling slowly, gently down to rest on the casket right where his hands would be clasped. Her throat was raw, but that didn't stop her from resuming her sobbing, choking on air as she tried to form the words for a last goodbye, instead coming out with a stuttering apology and a three-word revelation that was so soft, no one else heard.

She was _all_ he could think about. After he figured out that moving, sleeping, or speaking wasn't an option, he had nothing to do but think and try to avoid casting his eyes upward to see his mutilated, limp body being torn further apart by the bird creature with the bald man's head.

He thought of all the apparently misguided hope he had had, all the time he'd never get back, wasn't even sure he wanted back. He loved her still, and he longed for her more than ever to ward away the chill of the dark wood he was in. He mourned the fact that they would never be together, ever.

And slowly, his thoughts transformed to something darker than even this place of black desperation could ever hope to be, and he felt himself slipping away from the trees with bodies hanging from them, the thorny, screaming, bleeding bushes, and the dogs that chased frantic-eyed, naked people through the forest. He slid into yet another unknown.

Pam had had an excruciating time coming back. Michael had allowed her two weeks off, during which time she had moved all of her things across town into a new apartment. In the months following Jim's death, Pam had to come to terms with her loss _and_ the feelings she had for him, the love she carried for him, finally confronting what she should have so long ago.

It had been hard. Too hard, in fact, and after the first few weeks, she began seeing a psychologist downtown. Slowly but surely, though, she got better. She opened herself back up to people at work and was finally reclaiming herself, taking herself back from the despair. But whatever she did, however good she was feeling, she kept Jim's memory always in the back of her mind.

As the clock struck five, everyone began to file out of the office, ready for their weekend. She smiled at each of them and wished them a good weekend before slipping on her coat and heading outside to her car. She needed to be downtown for her appointment in fifteen minutes. She would have left earlier, but Michael had actually worked today, and she'd some important faxes to get out on his behalf. She should be able to make the appointment. She keyed the ignition and maneuvered her car out into the street.

As she made her way downtown, she thought about what she wanted to talk about today. Lately, she hadn't been feeling down, but she _had _been thinking a lot about her feelings for Jim and how she didn't feel she'd ever be able to surpass them and move on completely. She was just so in love with the man he had been, she wasn't sure that she'd ever be able to be with anyone else. Jim was such a part of her that she wasn't sure she'd be able to have feelings for anyone else.

She pulled up to an intersection and waited at the red light. She turned on the radio and calmed herself, like she usually did before her appointment with her psychologist. The light turned green, and she lightly pushed down on the gas and thought to herself, _This will all be ok. I can make it._

She didn't see the dump truck run its red light, only to smash into her car at a blistering speed, way above the posted limit. Her world tilted crazily, and she heard rending metal and the scrape of the asphalt and the shattering of glass. The car tipped over onto its roof, and she felt her seatbelt come loose, and then pain was blossoming in her head, traveling down her neck and spine, and her whole world went black.


	2. Paradiso

_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far. It means a lot. Um…not much to say about this chapter, just getting the stage set, so to speak. This update came quick, I know, and I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up quite the same pace later on, but I am very inspired to write this, so we'll see. Oh, by the way, I wrote this quick, so there might be errors. Sorry. Enjoy!_

Pam's eyelids fluttered open and she squinted in the bright light, her vision completely washing out. After a few seconds of furious blinking, her eyes adjusted to her surroundings.

She had regained consciousness up on a terrace overlooking a river valley. Miles and miles of unspoiled wilderness stretched before her, all the way to the horizon where an orange sun was just starting to sink into the sky, casting the clouds overhead in hues of flaming orange, red, and streaks of brilliant blue. In the distance, a flock of cranes flew gracefully and silently over the surface of the gently rippling water. She turned around to look behind her.

The house was a big stucco construction, windows and doorways all arches cut from the walls. Inside, she could see a bedroom and stairs that led downward. Hesitantly stepping into the room, she looked down at herself, noticing that she was barefoot and wearing a white dress. She made her way down the marble staircase, through a living room filled with couches and overstuffed chairs and out the huge arch that made up the doorway of the house. She walked down steps that terminated in large columns wrapped in ivy, and stepped onto the cool, damp grass, looking back at the house and seeing that, like the columns, much of it had ivy growing all over it. Awestruck and confused, she turned back to look out over the valley, taking in the fields of flowers growing in the distance. To her left on the lawn, stood an easel with a fresh, blank canvas on it, and a small table and stool next to it, an array of paints laid out and waiting. Pam tried to wrap her mind around it and stood silently, brow furrowed in concentration so deep that the voice from behind her startled her.

"Hi, Pam," came a soft, shy voice. Pam whirled around and stood face to face with Phyllis. Pam's jaw dropped.

"Phyllis?! How did you get here? Where the hell am I?" Pam's voice was tinged with shock and confusion.

"Well, I have to admit I'm not Phyllis," she replied quietly.

"Um…what? If you're not Phyllis, then who are you?" Pam was intensely confused now.

"Well…what do you remember? You know, before waking up here?" Phyllis asked her. Pam thought for a moment.

"I remember…driving…and I heard a loud crash, and my car tipped over and then I blacked out and…" her voice trailed off, eyes locking with Phyllis'. Phyllis smiled gently.

"Pam, you were in an accident…you were on your way downtown and a man named Jeffrey was driving a dump truck. He was talking on his phone to his wife and he dropped the phone. When he bent to pick it up, he didn't see the light and when he finally noticed what was happening, it was too late, honey. You've passed on, Pam."

"I…" Pam began, but looked around her surroundings and felt nothing but calm and acceptance wash over her, "…um, that makes sense, now that I look around. So…where am I exactly?"

"You already know that…"

"I just want to hear you say it," Pam trembled, anticipating the answer she knew was coming.

"Heaven, Paradise, the Afterlife…lots of different people call it lots of different things," Phyllis said smiling shyly, taking Pam's hand and leading her over to sit on a stone bench back by the steps leading into the house. They sat in silence, Pam's more a dazed silence than anything else, for a few moments before Pam cleared her throat.

"Did the man…Jeffrey…did he…" Pam couldn't find the words.

"He's ok, dear. He'll be fine. And I guess you're wondering who I am, right? I'm just a Guide. Think of me as…oh, I expect you remember college orientation. Think of me like that: someone here to orient you. Feel free to ask questions."

Pam was, surprisingly, filled with very few questions. She looked once more at the magnificent surroundings and noticed that the sun, which should have set by now, still hung in the same position in the sky. She tapped the leg of the Guide next to her.

"Phyllis, shouldn't the sun have set already?" she asked, confused. Phyllis captured her hand with her own warm one and squeezed.

"It will when you want it to, Pam," she whispered. Pam said nothing, thought a moment, and looked up at the sky. Before her eyes, the sun slipped lower and lower on the horizon, and the sky grew darker and darker, until it disappeared. The sky completely dark now, millions of stars came out to bathe her in cold starlight. Pam watched in wonder as a moon climbed slowly into the sky before coming to a stop. She looked up at the millions of stars now hung over her head, a canopy of tiny lights, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes before finally coursing down her cheeks. She turned back to face Phyllis, her bottom lip trembling as she fought to find the words.

"This…this is all so _beautiful_," she whispered, before closing her eyes and wiping her tears away. Phyllis smiled gently and let her regain her composure.

"Is all of it like this?" she asked finally.

"No, Pam, this place is your own. It's all yours to do with it what you want. You are in complete control. If you want to be able to run faster than anyone has ever run before until you reach the edge of the river, you can. If you want to eat food, you'll feel hungry and food will appear. If you never want to eat again, then you'll never have to. You have limitless options. You are free to spend eternity doing everything you loved on Earth. This is your own. Everyone has their own personal ideas of what this place would be like."

Pam thought about this, taking in the whole extraordinary situation, feeling warmth fill her up, starting at her stomach and spreading outward. Suddenly, she remembered something and smiled happily.

"Jim! Jim…he…he, uh, passed away months ago. Can I see him? When can I see Jim?" Pam was excited, out of her seat, her eyes wide and a smile playing on her lips. Her smile died when she saw Phyllis look down sadly. The warmth in Pam's stomach iced over with dread.

"Pam…that's not…he's not here. He took his own life, honey. He committed an affront to his own life. He's someplace else," Phyllis said quietly, evenly meeting Pam's wide eyes.

"Where…where?" Pam asked softly, desperately fearing what the answer could be. Phyllis said nothing, but simply pointed downward into the ground. Pam's eyes were unfocused and distant as she dropped heavily back onto the bench. Above them, the sky was obscured with churning gray clouds. Suddenly and without warning, the wind picked up and the skies opened up, fat iridescent raindrops bursting forth from the fat clouds overhead. Numbly, Pam stood up and walked inside. Phyllis followed her as she sat down on one of the couches and stared at her hands, twisting in her lap.

"I'm so sorry, dear. This is the order of things, though. This is how it has to be," Phyllis said softly, patting her shoulder comfortingly. After a few long minutes of silence, Pam looked up at Phyllis.

"No, it isn't."

"What?"

"This isn't the way things have to be. It doesn't have to end like this, Phyllis," Pam said through gritted teeth.

"Pam…he's already there. You can't very well go down there and get him!"

"Why not? Why can't I go get him?" Pam asked, furious.

"It's dangerous and–" Phyllis began, but Pam cut her off, standing.

"I don't care. He wouldn't have given up on me, and I'm not about to give up on him. I'm going to get him, Phyllis. I don't care how dangerous it is or what I have to do. I'm going," Pam said, clearly closing the issue. Phyllis thought for a moment before nodding slowly, conceding Pam's point.

"You're going to need help. I need to speak to someone," she said, walking briskly outside. Pam sat down and hung her head, waiting for Phyllis to return.


	3. Acheron

_Author's Note: Pam's journey is underway! This is my own interpretation of Hell and its torments as described by Dante in his epic poem The Divine Comedies. Dante briefly described the torments within Hell, and described almost none of the architecture (at least in the translation I have, so I'm trying to envision what Hell would be like (ironic because I'm Agnostic and not really sure if all of this exists, but that's beside the point) and every little vision I have in my head, I'm writing down and incorporating into the story. _

_A map of Hell (as envisioned by Dante) can be found here in case you want to follow Pam's journey: __http://www.tabula-rasa.info/HorrorImages/Inferno.gif_

Pam wasn't sure how long Phyllis was gone to talk to whoever she needed to before she got the urge to sleep. Immediately, her eyelids started to droop and she yawned. She knew she didn't need to, but sleeping would be one way to pass the time. She curled herself up on the couch and drifted off.

She wasn't sure how long she slept, but when she woke up, Phyllis was sitting patiently in the chair across from where she slept. Pam immediately bolted from the couch and hurried over to Phyllis, whose expression was somber and guarded.

"Well?" Pam asked anxiously.

"You…can try. If it's what you truly want, then no one up here will attempt to take that away from you. But Pam…don't be fooled. This is going to be the most difficult task of your existence, both Earthly and otherwise. A few before you have tried to enter the Dark, only to become trapped by the palpable despair there. Are you prepared to take that risk? Are you willing to possibly, probably, surrender an eternity here for Jim?" Phyllis asked calmly.

"Unflinchingly," Pam's voice was strong and steady. Phyllis nodded slowly.

"That's what I thought. The Circles aren't easy to navigate. You're going to need someone to help you find him, and I can't continue past the gate. I'm going to take you to the gates. From there, Virgil will guide you," Phyllis said, visibly shaken.

"When do we leave?" was Pam's only question. Phyllis led her outside, where the sun had completely risen, hanging bright and bold, steadfast, in the clear blue sky. Phyllis turned to Pam.

"Close your eyes…"

Pam felt Phyllis' warm hand grip hers and when she felt it suddenly disappear, when she faintly smelled ash and sensed hazy smoke blowing over her skin, she opened up her eyes.

In front of her was a very high wall, made of concrete, that ran off to her right and left until disappearing far, far off into the distance. Coiled at the top of the wall and stretching along its length were rusty spools of razor wire, creating an inescapable obstacle for anyone trying to climb over the wall. Pam's eyes came to rest on the steel door before her. Set into the concrete on rails that allowed it to slide sat a red steel door, the paint badly chipped and peeling off in the center of the small dents and dings that pockmarked the door's surface. Next to the door, in the concrete wall, was a rusting metal box, barely clinging to the concrete, its door slightly ajar. The most unsettling, fear-inspiring detail for Pam, though, was the metal sign right above the door. It looked like one of the thin highway signs she'd seen on overpasses as she drove to see her mother. The sign, white with a black border and black lettering, consisted of seven short words.

ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE.

Pam heard a shuffling behind her and turned around. Sitting in an old wooden chair, his feet propped up on the table in front of him, was a man. He was middle-aged, gaunt, and his head and chin were covered in short, black stubble. He wore black military boots, jeans greasy from the smoke in the air, and a gray t-shirt. On the table in front of him was what looked like a large, smooth, tarnished pocket watch. He saw Pam and stood, clearing his throat before speaking with a British accent.

" 'ello there. You must be Pam. I'm Virgil," he extended a soot covered hand to Pam, who took it hesitantly. Virgil smiled slightly at her, but it did nothing to hide the look of fear and anticipation in his weary eyes.

"Hi…yeah, I'm Pam," she said softly, avoiding his eyes.

"Love, there's no point in awkwardness or shyness, given what we'll be going through in the next while," Virgil smiled sadly before gesturing at her feet. "You're dressed ok then?"

Pam looked from his smirk and raised eyebrows down to her bare feet. She fumbled for something to say.

"Uh…I don't know…I've never done this before," she stuttered. Virgil managed to laugh lightly.

"True, true. Well, best get you some shoes then," and when Pam looked down, she was wearing a snug fitting pair of boots that matched Virgil's. She looked up to meet his eyes, but he was already walking towards the sliding steel door.

"Come on, then. No time to waste," he called over his shoulder. Pam followed him over to the box on the wall next to the door, which creaked in protest as Virgil swung it open. Inside was a metal keypad. She watched as Virgil punched in a seemingly endless code and then started as she heard from within the wall a loud click. The door slid off to the left, a dull scraping sound echoing in her ears. She followed Virgil through. Once across the threshold, the door halted its movement and quickly moved back to lock in place. Pam found herself staring at a forest of black trees, a roadway winding through them, asphalt cracked and broken, strewn feet from the road in some spots. They walked into the mouth of the trees and were swallowed by more darkness. Pam's eyes had no time to adjust and she slowed her pace. Ahead of her, she heard a metallic click and saw bright flashes revealing Virgil's position. After a few moments, the sparks grew into a flame that cut the gloom. Virgil held the cigarette lighter out in front of him.

"It's not far now, just stay close," he whispered. Pam nodded and wrapped her arms around herself, pressing into Virgil's side. She heard branches snapping in the trees lining the broken road, and she sensed lithe black shapes bounding almost soundlessly through the forest, the unseen creatures watching her.

"What…what's out there?" she whispered back.

"They're kind of like big, hairless, black wolves. Occasionally someone manages to slip away from Acheron and it's their job to…well, _stop them_. Don't worry, though. They exist solely in this dark forest; the light keeps 'em away," Virgil's voice was steady and calm, but his eyes were focused intently on the path before them as he guided her deftly over huge cracked chunks of pavement.

After walking a few minutes longer, they stepped out of the forest. Before them, the road disintegrated into gray sand which led down to a massive river, the dark waters stretching away toward an unseen opposite bank hidden in the thick mist. Straight ahead of her, a ramshackle wooden dock kissed the water.

"Ferry will be here in a minute," Virgil said. From farther up their side of the river, they heard a faint cry, just barely above a whisper. After a few minutes, it grew louder and louder. Through the mist to her left, Pam could see a red banner floating several feet off of the ground and moving forward at a steady pace. The banner wasn't attached to a pole and no one was carrying it. A few heartbeats after the banner came into view, a huge crowd of dirty, nude people came streaming out of the mist, their cries now deafening. Their limbs flailed about their bodies wildly as they streamed through the sand after the banner, a few losing their footing only to land face-first in the sand. As they got closer, Pam noticed what they were swatting frantically at. Swarms of wasps and hornets pursued them ceaselessly, their flesh covered with writhing maggots and strange looking beetles. The thickest concentration was around their eyes, and their filthy skin was dotted with angry red welts. The crowd screamed past Virgil and Pam, their cries so loud that Pam clamped her hands over her ears as they passed between them and the dock. Soon, their cries faded in the mist and Pam found herself screwing her eyes shut tight, calming herself, trying to forget what she just saw.

"Who were they, Virgil?" she asked once she had slowed her breathing and calmed the storm in her stomach.

"Opportunists," and at Pam's blank expression, Virgil continued, "People who in life never took sides, whether for good or evil. They just existed, not caring about one cause more than another. And you saw the folks with the bloody nubs on their backs, right?"

"Yes…" Pam said slowly. As the crowd tore past her, she had noticed through the ever-present mist that a few of the crowd had short, bloody stumps jutting from their shoulder blades.

"Those are fallen angels, of sorts. See, before this place existed, when…_you know who_ still lived up there, where you came from, there was that whole Rebellion. The event that got him kicked out in the first place. Well, the people you saw were the angels that refused to take sides, neither with the Father nor the Great Betrayer. They had their wings torn off and were cast out after the traitors were purged. Now they chase the banner, on the banks of Acheron…," Virgil trailed off as a horn sounded loudly in the distance. Pam turned toward the sound, spotting red running lights.

The decrepit hulk of the small, rusting ferry slowly slunk out of the mist until the stern was inches away from the dock. Pam tried to decipher the odd script, what she assumed was the boat's name, but she found she couldn't, although she did think it looked to be Latin. The horn sounded once more, an empty sound in the gloom, casting itself across the water until fading into the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. Pam saw a tall, thick figure move from the pilot house back toward the dock. Virgil led her forward.

"Not your usual ship, eh, mate?" Virgil said, holding out his hand for the towering figure, which Pam now saw was an incredibly large man wearing grease-covered overalls, and carrying over his shoulder a large, long wrench. The man took Virgil's hand inside his massive, dirty fist and shook it once.

"Pam, this is Charon. He's the ferryman," Virgil said, stepping aside. Pam looked up into Charon's grey eyes.

"Come. We must depart," Charon's voice was deep, but deceptively soft as he led them onto the boat, into the pilot house. He manipulated the throttle and the engines grew into a dull roar, pitch-black exhaust fumes belching into the air around the rear of the boat. Charon's eyes kept flicking between the water out in front of him and what she thought was an old, cracked sonar screen. She saw Virgil looking nervously at Charon.

"Char, are we going to make it?" Virgil swallowed thickly.

"I don't know…" was the soft, deep reply of Charon's voice. Moments later, Pam heard a pinging noise. The sonar screen was awash with blips, which merged into thick clumps and continued steadily towards the center of the round screen…toward their boat.

"What…" Pam began, but was silenced as she heard wet slapping against the side of the boat. Curious, she moved out of the pilot house.

"Pam! Stay inside! You've got to stay inside and hold onto something!" Virgil yelled after her, but her curiosity was overwhelming. She stepped to the railing and peered over into the black water three feet below. She began to make out pale white shapes just below the surface and looked back toward the pilot house. A scream from down in the water jerked her gaze back.

The boat was surrounded by wailing, writhing figures slapping desperately against the boat. The figures were completely eyeless, nothing but skin covering up where the sockets should have been. They were also bald, and, from what she could see, sexless. The screaming of the figures in the water was earsplitting and Pam knew they must be on the other side of the boat. Suddenly, the boat started rocking, gently at first, but quickly listing from side to side more and more viciously until Pam was weaving back and forth on the deck, dangerously close to losing her footing and tumbling into the writhing masses. She turned around and saw Virgil leaning out of the boathouse, arms stretched toward her, screaming her name. Pam shrieked once more and bolted for his arms. He grabbed her and pulled her inside before slamming the door behind him and locking it.

Charon was at the wheel, face ashen and focused as he tried to guide them across the water. Next to him, the sonar pinged furiously. Eyes wide and frantic, Pam sunk to the floor as the edges of her vision began to blacken. The last thing she saw before she fainted was Virgil peering into her eyes, yelling her name, trying to get her to focus, but his voice sounded so, so distant.

_That last bit in the water with the "people" trying to capsize the boat was borrowed from the movie What Dreams May Come, reconstructed to my own vision. Reviews are so, so welcome!_


	4. Limbo

_Author's note: Sorry this took so long. I've been ill for a while, haven't really been able to even force myself to write. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I believe it came together nicely and is a nice preface for things to come. I'm most proud of the imagery. Enjoy!_

Pam wasn't sure how long she was out for, but when she awoke, Charon was nowhere to be seen and Virgil was sitting on the control panel of the ferry, smoking a cigarette. She shakily climbed to her feet and Virgil turned to face her.

"Apparently it's pretty soddin' hard to wake the dead," he smiled gently at her. She stepped towards him and leaned next to him.

"Where are we?" she asked hesitantly, not really sure she wanted to know the answer. Virgil's eyes darted outside to the bow of the ship, where Pam noticed Charon tying the ship up to another dock. Beyond him, she could see rolling fields that might have been green, but where now gray, filled up with dead or dying flowers and sick- looking trees. Towering over all of it was something that looked like an enormous, sprawling mansion or palace that had fallen into disrepair. Chunks of masonry lay strewn about the lawn surrounding the structure, and portions of the roof had collapsed. The mansion was surrounded by tall chain-link fences with razor wire coiled around the top. Pam also noticed other previously magnificent structures dotting the fields surrounding the mansion, their cracked ruins blending into the charcoal gray of the surroundings. Figures dotted the entire scene, the largest concentration being a long line leading up to the fencing surrounding the mansion. Pam flicked her eyes back to Virgil, posing an unspoken question to him.

"We're going there, yeah, but just a quick stop. Don't you worry bout a thing," Virgil walked over to the door of the pilot house and opened it. Pam heard the wind blowing, low and mournful, kicking up small, swirling clouds of dust. Fear shone in her eyes, but she reigned herself in and followed Virgil, smiling awkwardly at Charon, who nodded silently in return, as they stepped off the boat onto the dock, then onto dry land, following a winding trail that would take them to the enormous structure in the distance. They walked along in silence for a few minutes before Pam stopped in her tracks, listening. Virgil heard her absence and looked back questioningly, but said nothing.

It wasn't _just_ the wind she was hearing. They were slightly closer now, midway between the shore and the structure, and the sound was clearer. Rising over the landscape before her were the combined sobs and wails of the figures she had seen back at the boat. They were dressed in regular clothing, albeit torn and dirty, and were in various positions around the area: some were walking in large clumps, not really together, while others were sitting on the steps of the broken buildings or huddling in the dirt, just weeping. Pam looked around and her eyes fell on the large group of people by the fence. Now that she was closer, she could see gates set into the fence and a guard shack at the head of the line. She shook herself and continued alongside Virgil toward the oddly silent crowd amidst the wailing of the rest of the dreary inhabitants of this place.

The first things she noticed were the two beings guarding the gate. They were dressed in soiled military uniforms and were wearing gas masks, their eyes obscured by the dusty lenses of their masks, the backs of their uniforms shredded right above each shoulder blade. From the tears in the fabric, long, blackened bones stretched outward, large skeletal wings hanging at rest behind them as they surveyed the crowd before them, clutching rifles with long, rusty bayonets under the barrels. Virgil grabbed Pam's hand and pushed through the crowd, trying to get to the guardians. When they had pushed through the silent crowd and reached the guardians, one of them stepped forward, the bones of his wings clattering softly as he moved. He towered over Virgil by at least half a foot, more when compared to Pam's slight frame. When he spoke, his voice sounded like it was coming through an intercom, scratchy and raw. Pam didn't recognize the language, but Virgil started immediately conversing with both soldiers, letting Pam's hand drop as he moved closer to them. After a few moments, the guardian that had stepped forward walked into the guard shack and through the shattered glass of the windows, Pam saw him pick up a radio and heard the muffled sound of his intercom voice, again in the language she didn't recognize. Virgil walked back over to her.

"They're sending someone to take us to the next Circle. It'll be a couple of minutes," he said simply, looking warily at the blank faces of the crowd behind them. Pam nodded slowly and was silent for a few moments.

"So…what is this place and what's that building for?" Pam gestured around herself and then to the razor wire-surrounded complex behind the chain link fencing. Virgil's attention was drawn back to her and he cleared his throat.

"Right…well, this is Limbo. It's sort of a sick, fucked-up mockery of the Other Afterlife. You can see that the buildings would be a little spot of lovely…ah, if they weren't…well, _here_. There's no overt punishment here. The souls trapped here are punished only by their distance from their Creator and Salvation. That building over there," he gestured to the sprawling structure in front of them, "is a hall of Judgment. These people in line are waiting to get in and be judged by Minos, one of the Great Betrayer's higher-echelon boys. He judges them and decides where they are sent for punishment."

"Ok, but who exactly gets sent here?" Pam asked, starting to get a better feel for the layout of this diseased realm.

"The Unbaptized, mostly. And 'virtuous pagans': people who didn't believe in the Creator, or believed contrarily, but still led virtuous lives. Inside the Hall of Judgment, along with Minos, dwell the virtuous souls of wisdom. Poets like Homer, Horace, and the like. That's also where I stay…when I'm not out and about."

Pam thought carefully, all the way back to high school. Something Virgil said about poets…and suddenly she had it and her eyes grew wide.

"Virgil…wait, you wrote _The Aeneid, _didn't you?" she asked in awe, proud of herself for piecing it together. Virgil just nodded, smiling wistfully, as he watched a cloud of dust get nearer and nearer. A worse-for-wear-looking armored personnel vehicle ground to a halt in front of them. The guardians left their post at the gates to walk around to the rear of the vehicle, pulling open the metal hatch at the back. Dust swirled out in plumes as the doors hung open and the guardians walked away wordlessly. Pam followed Virgil into the black maw of their transport. Virgil ushered her ahead of him and then pulled the hatch shut as the engines rumbled to life and they began to move.

"Yeah, this may seem a bit excessive, but as we move towards the end of Limbo, we get to the older shades…er, souls. Sorry. Throwback to the old days of poetry."

"I don't mind," Pam interjected. Virgil continued.

"So the older the shades, the longer they've been here, naturally. They can't stand their separation from the Creator and desperately want to get out. A vehicle gets us through faster, but unless it's armored, there's a chance they'll tip it or pull us out of it. Anything to escape their despair, you know?"

"Right…so, we're going to another section of this…uh…this _place_?" Pam asked.

"Yeah. Think of this place like a funnel. Acheron and Limbo are at the lip of the funnel, and each section after Limbo is lower and lower into the funnel until we get to the bottom."

"What's at the bottom?" Pam's voice was quiet.

"Never mind that," Virgil was avoiding her eyes. He stood up, as best he could in the cramped space, from the thin metal bench attached to the wall of the vehicle and turned around, opening up the viewing slats. Pam stood next to him and surveyed their surroundings. The sky was in its usual state of perpetual dusk and in the dim light she could make out _hundreds_ of shapes sprinting forward toward their vehicle, their cries of desperation reaching her ears. She sat back down slowly and heavily. Virgil stared out for a moment longer, face grim, before closing the slat and sitting back down, his head in his hands.

They rode in silence the rest of the way. The vehicle stopped after what Pam would guess was around forty minutes. During the ride, she allowed herself, for the first time since embarking on this journey, to think of Jim.

She loved him. When she thought back to all the personal sacrifices he made for her, for all the times he was there to shield her from anything aversive, she felt her heart swell, positive that it was going to burst. More than once during their silent ride, Pam had to wipe her eyes, afraid that someone…anyone would see her tears, sense her weakness, and come for her, ripping and tearing at her. She didn't belong here and hoped she wouldn't have to stay much longer. After the vehicle had stopped, Virgil went to the hatch and pushed it open, the metal of the hinges screaming in protest. Pam followed him out into the dusty dusk. She looked toward the front of the car, noticing that the driver's hatch was left open, and heard a hollow fluttering sound above her.

Their driver had looked exactly like the other guardians, soiled combat fatigues, boots, and a gas mask, his hands covered in black leather gloves, his arms held stiffly at his sides. The hollow fluttering sound was the sound of his black, skeletal wings beating at the air, whisper soft. Their driver's body bobbed through the air with each push of his great wings, the lenses of the mask reflecting the desert landscape below. Pam watched until he was out of sight and then turned back to the vehicle.

Before her eyes, rust overtook the vehicle, a dry crackling sound filling her ears as the metal degraded before her eyes and was blown away into the nothingness by an unfelt wind. Pam turned to Virgil for an explanation.

"If it isn't being used, then it's useless, love," he shrugged. Pam turned to look ahead at the direction they were going to head in and her breath caught in her throat.

She and Virgil stood at the edge of a massive abyss, the ground terminating at a severe 90-degree angle and leading down into the faceless chasm that lay before her, cloaked in mist. Attached to the sheer face of the cliff was yet another rusting hulk in this diseased landscape, yet it was one that she recognized as Virgil led her toward it. They stopped right in front of the raised doors of the industrial coal elevator, a single bare bulb hanging from the inside of the car, lit by who knew what sort of perverse force. Virgil held his hand out, beckoning Pam to step inside.

"Ladies first," he said simply. Pam looked at him, then to the elevator uncertainly before stepping inside. Virgil came in after her and reached up to pull down the large doors, sealing them inside with no other light than the dirty bulb burning above them. He pushed the black button with the down arrow on it and a metallic clank reverberated throughout the black box they had willingly put themselves in. Slowly, the elevator began its descent, picking up speed as it went, the light bulb flickering weakly at first, but more violently as they continued along toward the bottom of the chasm. Virgil spoke.

"Going down…"

_As always, reviews are deeply appreciated. Please please please!_


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